


Button Me

by missema



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Orzammar, Post Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted on tumblr - zip me, one character dressing another.</p><p>Zevran lends a hand, just when one is needed the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Button Me

Her hands trembled slightly as they ran over the silk, and if he hadn't been watching them he wouldn't have noticed. But he would have been a very poor assassin if he hadn't learned to watch for such tiny movements, and even worse friend and lover if he could not discern her emotions. 

Her hands fluttered again, more noticeably this time, and he frowned from where he stood in the doorway. They were hands that Zevran loved - quick and nimble, strong and scarred, but with their own elegance. She had beautiful hands.

What wasn't beautiful was the scowl that marred her face as he watched her. Her discomfort was palpable, pricking the hairs on the back of his neck even at a distance. It roiled under the surface, lava on the verge of eruption. She pulled the dress down over her head and started to smooth the silk skirt with the flat of her hands. Once, twice, too many times. It was a futile gesture since the bodice was gaping open in the back, the buttons undone, making the garment hang wrong. The dress was wearing her, mocking as it sat atop her skin.

He could practically hear her thoughts as she stood there in silent debate with herself. It's only a dress, just go on and put it on and be done with it. But it's not just the dress. I can't deal with this right now. I should be out fighting.

The former Princess Aeducan was no longer used to a life of fancy dresses.

She didn't jump when he came up behind her, but sighed. "Zevran." The plea was one word, his name, voice breaking on the last syllable. He understood perfectly. There was no nod or acknowledgment before he started at the bottom and carefully worked his way up.

Button after button, up her spine and down the length of each of her sleeves. He fastened each covered silk button, covering her in the dress, fingers growing used to the repetitive action quickly. At the end, he's not facing his Warden or the Princess Aeducan, but the a tired woman dressed as a Paragon. They're surrounded by walls of stone and lyrium in an estate that belongs to a noble that was once a friend to her, because she couldn't bear to go back to the royal palace. 

She's no longer a princess, but a living god, and he's not disrobing her but putting her clothes on. Their lives have taken vastly different turns than anyone could have predicted.

When she turned to face him he captured her lips in a kiss, headless of the makeup she's already redone three times. Wryly he thinks that he always looks better with a little color on his lips, and she needed to know that she is loved for her, not any other reason. He wasn't aggressive, goodness no, that was the opposite of what was needed. 

There's tenderness underscored by an offering of strength, from him to her. Her arms circled around his neck, body pressed close against his. Through the gilt adorned finery, he could feel her heart beating too fast, a nervousness he hadn't felt since the night before the Battle of Denerim. They kissed, her mouth harder against his, a sweet pressure he drew out for a while he gives in and parted his lips, letting her taste his tongue, breathe his air.

She ran a hand through his hair, settling on the nape of his neck and pulling him closer before backing away. Another kiss, quick and soft, dropped on her lips, and her answer in the same way, and then a smile before they separate. She's standing up straighter, looking more like the part she was about to play. One more time in Orzammar, since it's not done with her even though she'd already left it behind. His eyes smiled as they slid over her. She was wearing the dress instead of the other way around, and it bent to her will, accentuating her power.

"Thank you." She squeezed his hand as she said it, but hey eyes were on the door. "I'm ready."


End file.
